


I Think You Need a New One

by chronocides



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:57:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronocides/pseuds/chronocides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taylor is Jordan’s best friend. Jordan’s a little hung up on Taylor, but it’s cool. He can live through it. Then suddenly Taylor gets a girlfriend. Jordan has no idea where that leaves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You Need a New One

**Author's Note:**

> Hastily beta'ed (TY A! <3). All remaining mistakes mine. May have taken liberties with a few details. Rife with OCs. Title taken shamelessly from Avril Lavigne. For hittheshowersbb. Fanmix by henpecked available on my lj.

They had joked about it at World Juniors—“Hey, maybe you’ll come to Edmonton, eh?” Jordan had said, as he brohugged Taylor good-bye on their last day together.

Taylor had thumped him on the back and said, “And get stuck with your face? No thanks.”

“Whatever,” Jordan had replied. “You love my face.”

He and Taylor were still holding onto each other. Taylor’s hands had been really warm. Taylor hadn’t answered, and the moment stretched out almost too long, making it awkward, but then Taylor had made a truly horrible facial expression. “You wish,” he’d answered, and Jordan had laughed, before finally letting him go.

When he was watching the draft that summer, on the couch at his parent’s place in Regina, he’d had a good feeling. He hadn’t been sitting on the edge of his seat as he watched Steve lead the Oilers contingent onstage, but there was a pleasant thrum of energy underneath his skin. Whoever they picked, management and coaching would probably work hard to make sure they didn’t have to send him down. Everyone was tossing around Taylor and Tyler’s names, and Jordan knew Tyler, a little, and he knew Tyler was good, but he wanted to play with Taylor again.

Steve had been smiling as he announced, “We are pleased to announce that we are selecting from the Windsor Spitfires…”

Jordan had shouted so loudly his mother had poked her head into the living room because she thought he’d hurt himself. When he explained to her why, she’d smiled at him, a little confused.

“It’s nice that you’re so happy for your friend,” she’d said. Jordan had answered something noncommittal, because he’d been texting Taylor already.

 _see you in ed, rookie_

Taylor had replied almost immediately. _if you manage to stick with the big club this year_

Jordan had laughed when he’d read Taylor’s text. _I’ll even give you the grand tour_

 _looking forward to it, bro_

Jordan had spent the whole day grinning to himself. It was gonna be a great year.

///

They finally got around the grand tour a few days after management told the two of them that they weren’t being sent down to the Barons. There wasn't a lot to show him though, since Jordan really wasn't much of an expert on Edmonton either. He knew there was one place he wanted to show Taylor though, so he saved it for last.

"What is this?" Taylor asked, as Jordan pulls up outside Pop’s Ice Cream. It didn’t look like much, Jordan knew, but their homemade ice cream was the best he’d ever tasted. Plus, it would be nice to take advantage of the fact that the team nutritionists didn’t have him on any weird diets yet.

"They don't have ice cream parlors where you're from?" Jordan jokes, and Taylor rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, but why are we here?" he asked curiously.

"I figured you were probably hungry, and their ice cream's the best. They make it right here, you know?"

"Cool," Taylor said dubiously, but he was unlatching his seatbelt and scooting out of the seat anyway.

Jordan shook his head as he held the door open for Hallsy. Hallsy gave him a look, but Jordan just shooed him inside. The place might not look like much, but he'd bet good money that Taylor's outlook on it would change once he got a taste of their hot fudge sundae.

"You order for me," Taylor said, looking at the menu in askance. "Since you're such a big fan."

Jordan rolled his eyes and hipchecked him. Taylor wasn't expecting it, so he almost went sprawling, and when he had regained his balance, of course the first thing he did was retaliate.

It was pretty great. The guys on the team didn’t roughhouse or play around as much as Jordan’s old team did, and he had kind of missed just having someone to shove around and who gave as good as he got. It was weird when he tried to joke around with some of the older guys on the team, and though he went out a lot with some of the younger dudes, there was just kind of an awkward vibe sometimes. But with Taylor… it’s like Jordan somehow knows what Taylor’s thinking of doing before he even does it. It should freak him out, maybe, but right now it was just great it is to have someone who gets him.

Jordan was definitely winning the tussle, and he probably could have gotten Taylor to agree to anything, when there's a sound of a throat being cleared, and when they both look up, it's to see Stan, the ice cream parlor's owner, looking down at them, brows knitted.

"Can I help you two?" He didn't finish with _hooligans_ , but it was heavily implied. He looked nice though, kind of like Santa Claus with tattoos. The name on the tag pinned to his shirt read Stan. Jordan had seen him around the shop before, but he had never taken Jordan's order. Jordan guessed that he was the owner. Mostly because Jordan was pretty sure ice cream parlors didn’t employ bouncers. He cleared his throat.

"My pal here," Jordan said, with his arm still around Hallsy's neck in a headlock. "Is doubting the merits of your hot fudge sundae." He sounded like a pompous ass, but Stan seemed to get it, because he winked.

"We can't have that," he said gravely. "Tell you what, blondie," Taylor gave a muffled sound of outrage into the crook of Jordan's elbow. "If you hate our sundae, you can have it for free. But if not, you're going to tip your lovely waitress," Jordan let go of Taylor's head enough so he can see Marlena (who’d taken Jordan's order before, and was actually kind of cute) wave from behind the counter. "—all the cash you have in your wallet."

Taylor was more or less set for money for the next decade or so, the way management was talking, but he still blanched. He nudged Jordan, pushing at his arm, and Jordan finally let him up (but not without a parting noogie). He held his hand out for Stan to shake.

"Bring it."

Stan shook his head, and gave Jordan a conspiratory wink. Jordan grinned back, widely, and winked back.

///

 

"Oh god, Ebs, I think I've died and gone to heaven," Taylor whispered fervently after taking his first bite of Pop’s Ice Cream’s special hot fudge sundae. Jordan grinned back at him, smug, and took a bite of his own ice cream.

"Good, right?" he said smugly.

"Understatement of the century," Taylor said, scooping another big bite into his mouth. He scarfed down the sundae in record time. Afterwards, he leaned back in the booth, mouth spreading in a hazy sugar-soaked grin. He wiped absently at the side of his mouth.

"Ebs," he said. It came out almost as a moan, but before Jordan could give Taylor shit for it, he noticed that Taylor's lips were a little red. There was a smear of white at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve got a little,” Jordan said, and Taylor cracked an eye open to squint at him. Jordan coughs and gestures to the side of Taylor’s mouth. Taylor wiped at it again, and somehow got it this time. He grinned at Jordan, and then licked his fingertip. Jordan didn’t know what to do. Was Taylor coming on to him? Taylor belched immediately after Jordan thought that though, so Jordan guessed the answer was no. He tried to pinpoint if he was relieved or disappointed that that wasn’t the case (his head screamed relieved, but his dick insisted disappointed.) Jordan sighed and took another bite of his ice cream.

"You were right," Taylor concedes, and Jordan fist-pumps. Taylor pulls his wallet out. "And now if you'll excuse me, I think there's someone I owe a substantial tip to."

He walked over to the counter, and Jordan hated himself a little for how eagerly his eyes latched onto Taylor’s ass filling out the seat of his low-slung pants. He has a pretty great ass, Jordan thought, and then he had to stop because if he continued that line of thought, he would have started banging his head into the table. He morosely took another bite of his half-melted ice cream instead.

Taylor was leaning against the counter, talking to Marlena, who Jordan realized was actually kind of flirting back. Even though she had to be at least twenty-five, and he knew for a fact that she was married to a mechanic who worked at the shop where he brought his car in a couple of months ago.

Taylor looked weird though— almost too young, baseball cap worn backwards and with his hands flailing all over the place. Jordan wasn't even sure that Taylor knew he was flirting with Marlena, and it was kind of endearing.

Eventually Taylor presented Marlena with the contents of his wallet (40 dollars and change), which Marlena accepted with a grin and a wink. Taylor finally seemed to catch on to what they've been doing then, because he pinked up all the way up to his hairline.

When Taylor finally loped back to their table, he said, in a panicked hush, "I think she's coming on to me, man."

Jordan shook his head and clapped Taylor on the shoulder. "Dude, she was just being nice," he assured Taylor, just as Gus (6'5", build like a brick shithouse) walked in and planted one on Marlena. "That's her husband, by the way." Taylor’s mouth dropped open.

"Dude," Taylor said sadly. Ebs squeezed his shoulder.

"At least the ice cream here's good," said Ebs, and as Taylor met his eyes, they both cracked up.

///

It was almost a month after that when management broached the topic of the two of them living together. Jordan was relieved—he had roomed with other guys in Juniors, but he had been in a billet for his tenure with the AHL. It had been fun, but he had been looking forward to more independence this season. Though at the same time, he wasn’t looking forward to coming home to an empty apartment. At least with a roommate, he would have someone to come home with, and the house wouldn’t be so quiet.

Better yet, it was Hallsy, who was quickly turning into one of Jordan’s closest buddies on the team.

“Yeah,” he said. “That would be great, actually,” he told Doug, the representative from management who’s in charge of figuring out the housing for the new additions to the team. “Uh, have you asked Hallsy yet?”

“We had him in here before you,” Doug said. “The two of you can make your own arrangements as to when you want to meet with a realtor, and we’ll call one of the realtors who has worked with the team before, is that all right?”

“Yeah,” Jordan agreed. “That sounds cool. Thanks Doug.”

“No problem, Jordan.”

///

He found Hallsy loitering in the corridor just outside Doug’s office. “Hey roomie,” he greeted Taylor, who grinned back.

“Hi roomie,” Taylor replied, holding his fist up for Jordan to bump.

“Best season ever or best season ever?” Jordan asked, leading the way to the locker room. Behind him, Taylor laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. Jordan stopped to retaliate, which led to the two of them banging through the locker room doors, with Jordan trying to grab Taylor’s head in a headlock.

“Okay, okay, best season ever,” Taylor gasped out, and Jordan let him go. “Geez, Ebs, you have a fondness for grabbing my neck, or what?”

“Bit early in the season for the two of you to get kinky, isn’t it?” commented Jonesy, who had entered the locker room right after them. Jordan blushed up to his hairline, but Taylor scoffed.

“Your mom didn’t mind when I was getting kinky with her last night,” Taylor said, and then it was Jonesy’s turn to try and give Taylor a beating. Jordan shook his head and made his way over to his stall.

Finally, Taylor and Jonesy got tired, just in time for the two of them to change before practice started. Taylor started suiting up in the stall beside Jordan.

“So, when are you free?” Jordan asked, leaning against his stall.

“Huh?” Taylor asked, pulling on his underarmor.

“To go look at places and stuff,” Jordan said. “Doug said to just decide when, and they’ll call a realtor to come meet us.”

“Oh,” said Taylor. “Hell, man, how does this weekend sound?”

“Cool,” said Jordan. He felt like he and Taylor should hug or whatever, but Taylor was pulling his jersey on, and anyway it would be weird.

///

“Dude,” said Taylor. “We should totally get one of those places with like, a pool.”

Jordan gave him a look. Taylor waggled his eyebrows. Jordan laughed.

“And when would we use this pool, huh?” Jordan said. “Seeing as how the average temperature here is twenty degrees, and during the summer we won’t even be here.”

“We could get a heated pool,” Taylor said. “Or, like, one of those hot tub things.”

Jordan shook his head. “Dial it down, dude. Two bedroom, two bath, somewhere close to the rink…”

Taylor waved his hand. “That’s like, a given, man.”

“How about we find a place first, and we’ll see about all the extra stuff.”

“Okay,” Taylor said. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, yeah?”

“See you, Hallsy.”

///

Lena, the realtor, met them at the rink after morning training. She was a petite, dark-haired woman who looked about Jordan’s mom’s age. She shook hands firmly with Taylor, then Jordan as she discussed the places she would be showing them today.

“So, to clarify, you’re looking for a two bedroom, two bathroom place that’s close to the rink, right?”

“Yeah,” Jordan said, elbowing Taylor as Taylor opened his mouth. “That’s about it.”

“How about parking?” she asked. “Flooring? Are you looking for stainless steel appliances?”

Jordan felt his eyes getting wider with every question, and when he looked at Taylor, he guessed that Taylor felt as gobsmacked as he did.

“Uh,” said Jordan. Lena laughed kindly at the expressions on their faces.

“Why don’t the three of us talk it over on the way there,” she said, handing Taylor a sheet of paper and gesturing to the address at the top. “And you can tell me when we get to the first place.”

“Sounds cool,” Taylor said, leading the way to his car.

///

The first place Lena showed them was about thirty minutes away from the rink, a two bedroom, two bathroom unit in a brand new condominium.

“Well,” Jordan said diplomatically, once they’ve wandered about the place and had a bit of a poke around. “It’s very… clean.” He tried not to think that the dining table looked like a surgical slab. He turned to look at Taylor when he came in from the balcony, and narrowly avoided knocking over a vase perched precariously on a spindly steel table.

“I like the floor tiles,” Taylor offered. “And the balcony. And you said this building has a pool?”

“Quit it with the pool,” Jordan said, sotto-voce. Lena laughed.

“The pool’s under maintenance right now,” she said. “So if you chose this place, you won’t be able to use it for another month.” She flipped through the papers in her hands. “They also have a gym, basement parking, a spa, 24-hour security…”

Jordan glanced around, and he didn’t feel at home in this place at all. He heard a clattering noise behind him and he whirled around to see Hallsy grabbing at the vase he had almost knocked over only a few minutes before. The clattering noise was the table falling onto its side.

Taylor shot Jordan and Lena a sheepish look. “I don’t think this is the place,” he admitted.

“On to the next one then,” Lena said with a smile, and Jordan helped Taylor right the table.

///

The second place was too far from the rink, and the third place was too small.

“I’m pretty sure that the second bedroom was a closet, man,” Taylor whispered to Jordan as they walked back to the car.

“But it was the perfect size for you,” Jordan joked, and winced when Taylor punched him. Taylor coughed and stood up straighter, adding at least an inch to his height. He blocked Jordan’s retaliating smack to his head, when Jordan noticed. Hallsy wasn't _that_ much taller than him.

“If the two of you are done,” said Lena. The more time they spent house-hunting, the more she sounded like Jordan’s grade five teacher Mrs. Lundgren, who had been pretty terrifying when any kind of boyish, high-spirited violence was happening in her classroom. Jordan resisted the urge to hang his head and mutter, “Yes Ma’am.” He settled for gallantly holding the door open for Lena so she could get in the back seat and give them directions to the last place on her list.

The last place was closer to the rink, a townhouse in a quieter part of town that Jordan’s never been to.

“It’s an older building,” Lena had said on the drive over. “The kitchen was fully renovated by the previous owners, so I don’t think the two of you will have a problem with that.”

“I don’t cook much anyway,” Hallsy said, signaling left. “Maybe Ebs—,”

Jordan shook his head. “The best I can do is microwave leftovers.”

“They have a heated structure nearby for parking,” Lena said, talking over the two of them like they didn’t even interrupt her. “And it’s a bit roomier than the last place we looked at.”

“Cool,” Taylor said.

“You can park here,” Lena said. She gestured to a spot right off the turn.

Lena’s heels clicked on the steps leading up to the door, and when she pushed the door open, the first impression Jordan got of the apartment was how bright it was.

“So this is the main living area,” Lena said. Before she can continue, Taylor said, “I like the open floor plan.”

Jordan looked at him like he had sprouted an extra head, but Lena smiled. “I was just about to point that out. The open floor plan’s one of the nice things about this unit,” she said. “It makes it feel a lot bigger than it already is.” She stepped over to the kitchen. “So here’s the pantry. The kitchen is updated, like I said earlier, so these appliances are all brand new. And stainless steel.”

“I like the granite countertops,” Taylor said. When Jordan shot him another look, Taylor shrugged. “I googled some stuff when we were at the other place, man. I want to know what we’re getting into.”

“Can you say exactly why you like the countertops?” Jordan shot back, and Taylor shrugged again, grinning widely at Jordan.

“This is the laundry room—the washer and dryer come with the unit,” Lena said, leading the way down the corridor and towards the bedrooms. “This is the first bathroom. The other bathroom’s attached to the master bedroom…”

“They call that en-suite,” Taylor muttered to Jordan, who rolled his eyes and shoved him into the wall. The only reason Taylor didn’t retaliate was that Lena whirled around and said, sounding almost a little proud, “That’s right, Taylor.”

Hallsy looked so damn smug, but Jordan found it more endearing than annoying, which he was starting to notice happened more and more around Taylor.

“This is the first bedroom,” Lena said, opening one of the doors on the right. “It’s smaller than the master—,”

“I call dibs on the master bedroom,” Jordan said, before Taylor could say anything. Taylor opened his mouth like he was going to fight it, but Jordan said, “Also, I’m older. And I’ll give you the better parking spot downstairs.”

Taylor closed his mouth with a snap, thinking it over. Lena looked a little like she either wanted to laugh at the two of them or give them both a little smack around the head. Jordan wouldn’t blame her if she gave into the impulse for the latter. He and Hallsy haven’t exactly been making her job easy, between the horseplay and the bickering and the whole lack of decisiveness on what they were looking for in a place.

“Deal,” Taylor said. They shook on it, and Lena led them to the master bedroom. It was bigger than the other bedroom, but not by much.

“I think my room has the bigger closet,” Taylor said, inspecting the closet space. Jordan had to agree.

Jordan looked around the room, imagining where he would put his bed, what kind of stuff he could put on the walls. He hadn’t felt that way towards any of the previous houses. He looked up and saw Taylor staring at him. He grinned, and Taylor smiled back, nodding. They followed Lena as she led the way back to the kitchen, where they perched on the bar stools and tried to get a better feel for the space.

“So, how do you feel about the place?” Lena said, gesturing to encompass the apartment.

“I like it a lot,” Taylor said. Jordan nodded.

“I think this is it,” he told Lena. She smiled at the two of them, and Jordan could tell that she was relieved.

“Great,” said Lena. “So I’ll get the paperwork ready, and the two of you should be ready to move in next week. Is that all right?”

“That’s cool,” Taylor said. “I mean, my billet family’s great—,”

“And I can’t really complain, living in a hotel,” Jordan added. “But it would be great to have somewhere to come home to, you know?”

Taylor nudged his shoulder, and Jordan pushed back companionably.

///

Jordan didn’t want to be caught unprepared when they went to the furniture store, so not only did he make a list of what he’d possibly need, but he also brought his mom. Taylor would give him grief about it, maybe, but if he hadn’t offered to bring his mom, she would have insisted on going anyway.

He was more than a little relieved to find out that Taylor had done the same.

He and Taylor shot each other sheepish looks as their moms greeted each other like old friends, which was pretty weird, since Jordan was sure that this was maybe only the second time they’d met.

“I made a list,” Jordan announced to Taylor as they went into the furniture store.

“Me too,” Taylor said, taking a folded sheet of notebook paper out of his pocket. It looked a lot like Jordan’s— bed, TV, sofa.

The beds were easy enough to take care of—they both got doubles, and then they got sheets and curtains and stuff. Jordan let his mom pick out his, just making sure she understood that he was over the rocket ship thing. He could hear Taylor having a similar discussion with his mom, but with dinosaurs instead of rockets.

They left their moms in the bed linen area and went over to the entertainment section.

“How many TVs are we talking about, man?” Taylor asked, as they glanced around the section.

“I was thinking three?” Jordan said. “I mean, one for each of our rooms, and the living room?”

“Sounds good to me,” Taylor said, gravitating to what looked like the biggest TV in the store. It looked like it belonged in a movie theatre.

“Dude, no,” Jordan said, even though it would look wicked in their living room. “We would go deaf. And then blind. Or blind, and then deaf.”

“Imagine playing NHL11 on this,” Taylor said, his voice going soft and almost dreamy. “Just think of it, Ebs.”

Jordan could imagine it pretty well actually. “It would be like we were on puck level or something,” he said. Despite his misgivings, his voice was taking on the same dreamy, yearning tone as Taylor. They were still talking about hockey and gaming though, so he guessed that was still allowed.

“Step away from the TV, you two,” called Jordan’s mom from behind them, and Jordan shook his head, pulling Taylor away from the TV. “Come on, you still have to pick out a sofa and some lamps.”

“She’s right man,” Jordan said, tugging on Taylor’s arm. He must have pulled a little harder than he thought, or Taylor might not have been bracing himself for it, but Taylor almost fell against him, his body a line of heat against Jordan’s front.

It was kind of nice, actually. Jordan was sure that his face was all red, but Taylor didn’t say anything as he disentangled himself from Jordan, except, “Relax dude, I totally heard her. No need to get all rough.” He’s grinning as he said it though, so Jordan didn’t think he was serious.

Taylor gave the TV one last lingering glance, but he nudged Jordan and said, “So, sofas?”

“Yeah,” Jordan said, pushing back at Taylor’s shoulder.

///

The minute the sales guy reclined the easy chair, Jordan knew that they had to get them.

“I call dibs on the one with the arm rest,” Taylor said, jumping into the said seat. Jordan elbowed him in the head, accidentally on purpose, as he took the other recliner. They spent a few minutes playing with the controls, much to the amusement of their moms, the sales guy, and a bunch of passing shoppers (some of which took cameraphone pictures, which still weirded Jordan out, but he was too pleased with the recliners to care.)

“We’ll take it,” Jordan said. Beside him, with his eyes still closed, Taylor nodded.

After the couch, the recliners, a coffee table, the lamps, the beds, the bed linens, and stuff for storage and the bathroom, they decided to leave the purchase of the dining table and stuff for the balcony on a separate trip. Jordan was pretty sure they missed some stuff though, which would necessitate another trip to the furniture store anyway. They filled out the delivery forms together, making sure they got the street address correct.

They took their moms out to dinner afterward, as a thank you for putting up with them the whole day.

“I kind of can’t believe Taylor is all grown up and ready to live on his own,” Taylor’s mom said, while they’re waiting for their food. Jordan’s mom nodded.

“When Jordan was playing with in Springfield, it was tough, you know,” she said, shooting a fond look at Jordan. He ducked his head and took a sip of his soda. He really wanted a beer, but he was still a little iffy about drinking around his mom. Or drinking with his mom, whatever.

The conversation devolved, as Jordan guessed it would, into embarrassing stories about the two of them. Jordan normally would have been all ears about any potentially chirp-worthy stories about Hallsy, if it didn’t come with the trade of his mom going on about that time he thought he’d killed a deer with a wayward puck while he was playing pond hockey with his cousins.

“It was the one time,” Jordan protested, and Taylor shook his head at him, laughing.

It was pretty nice actually, embarrassing stories aside. He kicked Taylor’s foot lightly under the table, and Taylor looked up at him, grinning. They had a successful shopping trip picking out furniture for their new place, and now he was having dinner with his mom and he would be picking up the tab. He felt like an adult. It wasn’t as terrifying as he thought it would be. It was actually kind of cool.

///

Of course, Jordan felt less adult after they got back from their first road trip and found all the 250 dollars worth of food they’d bought the week before going bad.

“Dude,” Taylor said, tilting his head away from the fridge. “I think that cheese is moving.”

“Have you seen the vegetable crisper?” Jordan demanded. “It looks more like something crawled in there and died.”

He and Taylor made matching expressions of horrified disgust.

“I’ll clean this up if you do the laundry,” Taylor offered.

“Deal,” Jordan said. “I don’t get what’s your big issue with doing laundry, man. It’s just following directions.” Then he remembered something. “What, even the folding?”

“Yeah,” Taylor said, hunkering down to pull the crisper buckets out of their spots at the bottom of the fridge. “And the ironing.”

“Dude,” Jordan said, nudging Hallsy with his foot. “Do you really want to have your pants burned so badly?”

“You can do it, Ebs,” Taylor said, wincing as he hefted the crispers onto the countertop closest to the sink. “I believe in you, buddy.”

“It’s all fun and games until someone’s underwear’s dyed pink,” Jordan muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” Taylor said. “And can you order Indian after you put the clothes in the washer? I think I’m gonna be at this for awhile.”

“Sure,” Jordan called over his shoulder, then went to empty their bags.

///

They fell into a routine pretty quickly. Taylor wasn’t kidding when he said that his only cooking skill was at microwaving, so Jordan took over kitchen duty. It mostly consisted of ordering in stuff, or following painstaking directions texted to him by his mom, but other than that, he hasn’t poisoned either him or Taylor (“Yet,” Taylor joked darkly.) so he was counting that as a win.

Their next grocery trips also went a lot better than the first one, mostly because they have learned to plan around their schedules—nothing perishable if they’re going on a road trip, never forget the necessities: bread, milk, coffee, beer, munchies— so they haven’t come home to a natural disaster like their fridge was right after the first road trip.

When they’ve got practice, Jordan was usually the first one up. He would get the coffee ready, go get his stuff together, then scramble eggs and toast bagels or whatever. Taylor would wander out at the smell of coffee, and Jordan had had Taylor pegged for a morning person at first, but it turned out that Taylor was practically catatonic until his first cup of coffee. On most days, Taylor drove them to the rink, where they’d stop at the player’s entrance to say hi to some fans there and sign stuff.

On the days they didn’t have practice, Jordan rarely got up before noon. As the season started, those days were few and far between though. And mostly he and Hallsy spent their time on the recliners (“Best thing I’ve ever bought in my life,” Hallsy announced fervently, once they were delivered and the TV was set up. Jordan heartily agreed.)

It really was kind of nice, having someone to go home with. Or, when Hallsy was injured, someone to come home _to_ , though Jordan totally preferred it more when Hallsy was on the ice with him.

So it was a really great arrangement, actually.

Okay, except for the fact that Jordan still had those weird moments where he found Hallsy hot.

The first couple of times, when they had just moved in with each other and weren’t as close as they were now, it was kind of explainable. Jordan was a red-blooded male, he hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. Worrying about and working toward a spot in the NHL will do that to you. He knew he was attracted to both guys and girls, and that if Taylor was a complete stranger that he had met at a bar somewhere, he probably would have hit on Taylor, because he liked blond guys who were taller and a little broader than him.

But a good number of months into the season, the feeling was becoming less “Hey, Hallsy’s pretty hot, I’d hit it” and more “Hallsy’s someone I can’t live without, but also someone I want to go to bed with”.

Jordan knew that Taylor considered him his best friend, and they were pretty much attached at the hip at this point, between living together and being on the same line and spending all their time off together. Sometimes he would feel Hallsy staring at him, but that was probably nothing. He didn’t even know if Taylor was into guys or girls or… whatever. Taylor joined in on locker room discussions of hot chicks and stuff, but when the team went out to bars he would rarely leave Jordan’s side, and he kind of stuttered around the girls who came up to him and droves and handed him their numbers. He was pretty sure Taylor had actually gotten invitations to get blown in bathrooms too, but either Taylor was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of them (possible, but unlikely) or he was just that dense that he didn’t pick up on what the girls were saying (also possible, and less unlikely.)

Jordan didn’t know if he was supposed to make a move or not. Making a move when Taylor was also secretly into him would probably be great, and result in like, orgasms, but if he made a move and Taylor _wasn’t_ into him… Jordan didn’t even want to think of that. The worst thing would be if Taylor pushed him away in disgust, but the best possible scenario in that situation would be if it made things horribly awkward between them to the point that Jordan had to move out or stop playing on the same line with Taylor. Or stop playing in the same team with him, which would be a total living nightmare.

The feelings didn’t come that often anyway. Mostly he felt it when they were on the way home from a bar, jammed together in the back of the cab. Hallsy was kind of a cuddly drunk, and he liked to lean on Jordan on the way home. Sometimes he would rub his hand against Jordan’s pants, but Jordan pegged that to a fascination with textiles (he had a cousin in Regina who acted the same way when he was high) rather than any actual interest in the leg underneath. And Hallsy never brought it up or stuff, so Jordan learned to kind of file it away. Sometimes he would feel this rush of uncontrollable fondness when he and Hallsy were playing Xbox on the couch and shoving each other around.

Only this one time, they had been tussling after a particularly heated NHL11 match-up, and Jordan had popped a boner when Hallsy was pressing him into the couch, his front to Jordan’s back. Jordan almost couldn’t resist the urge to arch his back and drive his hips closer to Hallsy—between training all the time and their hectic schedule, he hadn’t slept with anyone since before the pre-season, even. But instead he shoved Hallsy away and bolted to his room. At least his sweatpants were baggy enough to hide the fact that he was sporting a semi, and after he had taken some deep breaths and calmed the fuck down, Taylor hadn’t even commented on it when he had come back to the living room.

“Was I pressing against your—,” Taylor said, and for a terrifying moment Jordan thinks Taylor is going to say “dick” or “ass”, but Taylor continues, “Appendix or something?”

Jordan almost sagged in relief and sat back down beside Taylor. “Number one, the point of an appendectomy is to take your appendix out,” said Jordan. “And number two…” Taylor had actually given him a good out from the awkwardness, so Jordan said, “Yeah, you kind of were. But it’s cool.”

“Cool,” Taylor said, handing the controller back to him. “So, rematch?”

“Hell yeah,” Jordan said, knocking his shoulder into Taylor’s.

They still went out for ice cream before home games. Marlena still flirted with Taylor, and got him blushing and stuttering, and Jordan would get the same flavor every time (he liked his routines), and they would end up in a little booth almost all the way in the back of the shop, kicking at each other and building up their excitement for the game the following day.

Their routine continued, undisturbed. They went to practice, then home, where Ebs tried to cook for the two of them and Taylor laughed at him and prepared his KD. They would end most nights in their recliners, chirping each other while they played Xbox or watched a movie.

Once, they’d been watching one of the Bond movies, and Jordan was sick with a cold. He’d taken his meds, and was nodding off before the film was even halfway done.

He’d woken up a little after midnight. The DVD menu for the movie was looping on the television, and for the first time in a couple of days, Jordan didn’t feel like his head was so painful it was going to split open. Instead, he’d felt warm all over, and he realized why when Taylor stirred behind him, pulling Ebs even closer. Taylor’s breath felt hot against the back of his neck, and when Taylor pulled him closer, he could kind of feel Taylor’s lips. Taylor had a firm grip around his waist, and their legs were tangled together.

Jordan knew he should get up, walk to his room, but… Taylor was so warm. He didn’t want to move. So against his better judgment, he closed his eyes, his back still pressed to Taylor’s front, and feeling every slow and steady breath Taylor took.

///

A side-effect to the whole, “I have feelings for my roommate stuff” was that dreaming about Taylor was apparently a thing for Jordan now. Some of it was pretty tame and vanilla actually—just the two of them making out on their recliners, which probably featured in 50% of Jordan’s sexual fantasies anyway (they were really, really comfortable.)

Occasionally though, Jordan would get a dream that had him waking up so hard it was almost painful. He really didn’t want to be that guy who jerked it to a dream about coming all over his roommate’s face, but that was his burden to bear.

He kind of wanted to just pick up some really hot, anonymous girl (or guy, but a girl would probably cause less waves, especially if he was with the team) but he didn’t want to be that guy either.

Jordan had a lot of dreams about Hallsy’s mouth. Sometimes it would just be the two of them making out, him straddling Taylor and Taylor’s huge hands cupping his ass. Most of the time though, it would be Taylor going down on him, begging Jordan to fuck his face and come down his throat.

Jordan woke up from one of these dreams the week Taylor’s ankle was broken, and he was so, so thankful that Taylor couldn’t move without any thumping noise alerting the listener to his whereabouts. Jordan stripped the sheets off his bed, red-faced but also kind of still boneless from his orgasm, and practically ran to the laundry room to wash them.

///

He and Taylor had never really discussed what would happen if one of them wanted to bring someone home. They were busy with practice and playing and press, not to mention their injuries, and when they weren’t busy they were usually together anyway, either out with the rest of the young guys or just the two of them at home, playing Xbox and trying to make the place more theirs. The only new addition to the place since Oil Change had shot the footage in their house was the addition of a dining table and a couple of posters. Jordan had asked Taylor if he wanted to hang up his jersey from the All-Star Game on the wall, but Taylor had shook his head, an unreadable look on his face. “It’s not the same without you, man.”

So it went without saying that the thing at the bar was kind of a shock.

“Dude,” said Jonesy, bringing the next round of drinks back to the table. They were celebrating a hard-fought win against the Flames, and they had a free morning the next day. He nudged at Lads, who nearly spilled his drink. “Take a look at Hallsy.”

The whole table craned their necks to look at Taylor, who was leaning against the bar, talking to—

“She’s got to be at least an eight, am I right boys?” Horcs joked, raising his eyebrows.

“The rookie’s got game,” Fraz agreed, raising his beer bottle in a toast.

“Hope that doesn’t cause trouble at home, eh Ebs?” teased Jonesy, elbowing Jordan in the ribs. Jordan punched him back, maybe a little harder than necessary, because Jonesy winced.

Jordan couldn’t take his eyes off them. He was drinking maybe a little more than he usually did, and he didn’t miss the worried looks Horcs and Fraz kept shooting him. Every time the girl reached out to touch Taylor, Jordan took a sip of his beer. A long sip. Every time Taylor touched the girl’s hair or her arm, he would chug the remainder of his bottle down. It was like the most awful, tortuous drinking game on the planet.

Taylor didn’t come back to their table until nearly two hours later, to get his coat. Only Horcs and Fraz were still with Jordan at the table when Taylor came back; Jonesy and Gags were on the dance floor, and Lads had managed to initiate a conversation with a girl who didn’t care that he only spoke a handful of English words.

“Uh, I just needed my coat,” said Taylor. He looked a little red as he glanced at Jordan, and asked, “Ebs, I’m gonna go ahead, is that okay?”

Jordan’s eyes slid away from Taylor and landed on the girl behind him. She was wrapping a scarf around her neck and looking expectantly over at their table. She was really pretty.

“Yeah,” Jordan said weakly. Taylor was still looking at him though, so Jordan added, “Uh, good luck man.”

Taylor looked… kind of disappointed, which was a weird thing to be if you were about to score with a girl as hot as the one who was waiting for him. “Thanks dude,” he said, reaching out to punch Jordan in the shoulder. Jordan was reaching for his drink when Taylor’s fist connected though, so it turned out more like Taylor was just brushing his knuckles softly over Jordan’s upper arm.

“I’m just gonna—,” Taylor said, still red. She had probably given him too much to drink, Jordan thought a little viciously. That should be fun for the two of them.

“Yeah,” said Jordan. Taylor left, putting his arm around the girl’s shoulders. Jordan raised his bottle of beer to his lips. When he put his beer down, both Fraz and Horcs were staring at him.

“Dude,” said Fraz, shaking his head.

“What?” Jordan said testily.

“I’m gonna get the next round,” Fraz said, in lieu of replying.

Horcs wasn’t much better. He was staring at Jordan like Jordan had made a bad turnover in their zone or something.

“What is it?” Jordan said again.

“Nothing,” said Horcs. He shrugged. “Just, don’t let it affect you out on the ice, man.”

“What do you mean?” Jordan said, voice tight.

“You’re good kids,” Horcs said. “And I trust that you know what you’re doing. But if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.” He reached out and clapped Jordan on the shoulder as Fraz returned with their drinks.

Horcs didn’t mean… he couldn’t. He couldn’t know. Jordan shook his head and emptied his beer bottle, reaching for another on the tray Fraz had just slid onto the table. It was Hallsy’s first one night stand. It was cool. They were friends. Tomorrow morning he’d wake up, and he and Taylor would have breakfast, and everything would be back to normal.

///

Everything was not back to normal. Jordan stumbled out of bed at nine, hungover as fuck. Taylor wasn’t up yet, which was par for the course, but the covered plate and mug sitting at the kitchen island wasn’t.

There was a post-it on the plate. It read, _Eat me_. Jordan lifted the cover off the plate. There was toast, bacon, and scrambled eggs. It wasn’t like Jordan’s scrambled eggs either—these were perfectly yellow and cooked all the way through. Jordan’s scrambled usually ended up with brown bits because he didn’t use enough butter or oil or whatever. He picked up a fork and dug in. They were fucking delicious.

Jordan was halfway through the plate when he realized that maybe Taylor’s girl from the night before had left it for Taylor. He carefully rearranged the plate (he’d only taken one piece of toast, three pieces of bacon and nearly all the scrambled eggs, but whatever, Taylor could deal) and he was deciding not to touch the coffee when the door to Taylor’s room opened.

“Oh,” said the girl from the night before. She was carrying a tray. “Did you like your breakfast?”

She was shorter than Jordan remembered, because she was barefoot. She looked like she was wearing Taylor’s shirt from the night before. Jordan forced himself to smile at her and say, “Yeah, it was good, thanks.”

Taylor came stumbling after her, just in his pajama pants. There was a hickey on his neck. Jordan resisted the urge to knock the tray from the girl’s arms.

“I’m Katie, by the way,” she said, holding her hand out for Jordan to shake. Jordan shook her hand gravely, willing himself not to press too hard on her hand.

“I’ll do the dishes,” said Taylor.

“I have to get to work,” Katie said. She handed Taylor the tray and went back into Taylor’s room, shutting the door behind her.

Taylor rinsed the dishes before loading up the dishwasher. Jordan ate the rest of his breakfast and lifted the cover off the mug of now lukewarm coffee. The silence was almost unbearable, and finally Jordan asked, “Breakfast in bed, huh?”

Taylor glanced up at him, grinning a little sheepishly. “Yeah,” he answered. Katie came back into the living room, her heels clicking against the flooring.

“Walk me out, Taylor?” she said. Jordan couldn’t help getting a little annoyed. At least she didn’t do that irritating baby voice some girls did. Katie seemed nice. Jordan had no fucking reason to want to rip her head off.

“Uh, sure,” said Taylor, still looking at Jordan. He grabbed his jacket from where it had been slung across the back of the couch and pulled the front door open for Katie. Katie waved once at Jordan before heading out. Taylor raised his eyebrows at Jordan comically and walked her down the steps.

///

Taylor had gotten a lot of shit for the hickey. Jordan was noticeably non-participative, but he guessed Jonesy was loud enough for half the locker room combined.

“Look at our little rookie,” said Jonesy, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “All grown up and unleashed on the women of Edmonton.” The rest of the guys hooted their approval, and Taylor ducked his head, blushing.

“And how do you feel about that, Mr. Eberle?” asked Jonesy, holding an imaginary mike in front of Jordan. Jordan rolled his eyes and forced himself to talk past the lump in his throat.

“I only hope,” he said gravely, like one of the announcers on TV. “That they keep it down when I’m in the house with them.”

The guys hooted again, and Jordan glanced at Taylor out of the corner of his eye. Taylor was taping up his socks, pulling a bit harder on the tape than usual, but maybe it was just really sticky tape. His eyebrows were knitted in annoyance.

Jordan shook his head and turned his attention back to his own equipment.

///

Their routine was a bit off the next few days, because Katie was over _a lot_.

One night, a week or so after Katie had first spent the night, he and Taylor had just ordered Indian when the doorbell rang. Jordan opened the door, wondering when the fast food delivery guy had gotten so fast, and it turned out to be Katie. She smiled up at him and walked past him to kiss Taylor, and okay, their house was old, but not old enough for the doorknob to just come off in Jordan’s hand. At least that had let him escape to the laundry room to retrieve the toolbox, so he could skip watching them suck face some more.

When their food came, Taylor shared his food with her, and Jordan had had to watch the two of them go through this pantomime of feeding each other. Surely it was too early in the relationship for the two of them to be acting like they had been dating for ages.

Katie called Taylor “Tay-tay”. Jordan tried not to throw up in his mouth.

After dinner, they had moved from the kitchen to the couch, and before Jordan could say anything, Katie sat down in his seat, pressing up against Taylor’s side and snuggling against him.

Taylor glanced at Jordan and he must have seen something in Jordan’s face, because he suddenly said, “Katie, that’s where Ebs sits.”

“Oopsie,” she said. “I’ll just sit here then.” She scooted to her left and ended up in Taylor’s lap. “Is that okay?”

Jordan made himself take deep breaths. The doorknob thing had been awkward enough. He didn’t want to crush his beer can either.

“This is great,” Taylor said. “Come on, Ebs, sit down.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Jordan bit out. “I think I’m gonna go skype with my sister. You can sit where you were, Katie.”

“No, I’m fine here,” said Katie, practically wriggling in Taylor’s lap. Jordan spun around on his heel and walked away, breathing hard.

He didn’t end up skyping with his sister. He ended up watching porn instead, but nobody had to know that. And if the videos he watched specifically featured a blond pounding a dark-haired guy, nobody needed to know that either.

///

When Jordan woke up the next day, he didn’t feel any better than he had the night before. He stumbled into the kitchen. Katie was at the kitchen island, reading the paper and drinking coffee. Her hair was all over the place. Jordan didn’t acknowledge her or greet her good morning, making a beeline for the coffeemaker instead. When he had drained his first cup and was pouring his second, it was only then that he muttered, “Morning,” in Katie’s direction.

“Good morning, Jordan,” Katie practically trilled out. She folded the paper and finished her coffee. She pushed a plate of toast and scrambled eggs in Jordan’s direction, and Jordan grudgingly took a piece of toast. Her scrambled eggs were great, but she didn’t need to know Jordan thought that.

“Sleep all right?” she asked innocently.

“Fine,” Jordan answered shortly. Why did she have to go and ask that? What did she want him to say? Oh, no, I had to sleep with Nickelback screaming in my ears so I wouldn’t have to hear your shrieking about how much of a stallion my best friend is. Which, thanks for that disturbing image, by the way. I’m never going to be able to listen to someone chirp him about looking like a horse, because it will automatically connect it to him being a stallion in bed, and it’s awful popping a boner with a full uniform on.

“Well, I have to go,” she said, rinsing her cup. “But I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Before Jordan could ask what she meant, she had scooped her handbag and coat up from the chair she had dumped them in the night before and flitted out the door. Taylor, judging from the snoring coming from his room, was still out like a light.

Jordan finished his toast, and went to take a shower.

Or, at least, he tried to. There was something up with the pipes in his bathroom. The cold water was working fine, but the hot water only came out a few drops at a time. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something, but Jordan was not going to subject himself to an ice-cold shower this early in the morning. He grabbed his towel and shower stuff and stomped down the hall to Hallsy’s bathroom. He locked the door and turned the taps on.

He was still half-hard from morning wood. Even his quick, strange conversation with Katie couldn’t change that. He tried remembering the porn he watched last night, stroking himself, but at the same time, he couldn’t help wondering if Katie had left any marks on Taylor this time. If she’d bitten him in the same spot as before.

It really wasn’t that surprising that Jordan got hard a lot faster after thinking about that. For once he tamped down the guilt and gave himself over to it. Because it was Taylor’s bathroom, the smell of his bodywash was somehow stronger, and Jordan braced himself against the shower wall and stroked himself through his orgasm. It wasn’t even anything specific—just the smell of Taylor, his lips, the way he’d knock his shoulder familiarly into Jordan’s when they were playing, the way he’d knock his knee into Jordan’s to throw him off, if they were playing NHL 11.

He was still panting, recovering from his orgasm, when Taylor knocked on the door. Jordan straightened up suddenly, making sure he hadn’t cum on the walls of the shower or whatever.

“Ebs?” asked Taylor. He sounded sleepy. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, dude, I’ll be out in a bit,” said Jordan.

“Ebs, I need to pee,” Taylor called.

“Go use my bathroom,” Jordan shouted back.

“Come on, dude,” Taylor called. Jordan groaned and made sure his towel was fastened securely around him before unlocking the door and jumping back into the shower. He made sure that the curtain was stretched all the way across.

He could hear Taylor stumble into the bathroom, could hear him lift the seat up.

“Thanks man,” Taylor said afterward, and he closed the door behind him.

Jordan finished rinsing off the rest of the soap and poked his head out of the shower to grab his towel. He was wiping the steam off the mirror when he noticed that there were two toothbrushes in the cup on Taylor’s sink.

The blue one was Taylor’s, he was sure. He lifted the red one using his thumb and forefinger, like those guys on CSI. He resisted the urge to dip its head in the toilet. That would be petty and juvenile and awful. Jordan sighed and put the toothbrush back in the cup. He pulled the bathroom door open.

The door to Taylor’s room was closed. Jordan looked at it for a long moment before going down the hall to his room.

///

Thankfully, there was one aspect of their routine that Katie hadn’t messed with.

“Man, is it me, or is this place getting more crowded?” Taylor asked as they stopped the car in front of Pop’s. Jordan shrugged, unlatching his seatbelt. There were more people than usual, especially given that it was pretty late at night, and not that warm.

Inside, he and Taylor lined up for their ice cream. Jordan got rocky road, and Taylor got his usual hot fudge sundae. They sat down in a booth at the back. They ate their ice cream like they always did—bites in between conversation about the team, about who they were playing tomorrow… what they usually talked about. Not once did Taylor mention Katie, which he had been prone to doing the past couple of weeks.

It was nice.

“This is nice,” said Jordan.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed, scraping the last of the ice cream from the bottom of his bowl.

“I mean, it’s cool that you were able to get tonight away,” said Jordan. He didn’t even realize what he was saying until Taylor looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” asked Taylor.

“Nothing,” said Jordan. “Drop it, okay.”

Taylor looked at him suspiciously, but didn’t reply.

“I’m going to go pay,” he said. Jordan nodded, and finished his ice cream, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

///

The drive back home was tense, for some reason. Almost like they were waiting for something.

Taylor practically jerked the steering wheel when he parked. He pulled on the brake a little harder than necessary.

“Dude,” said Jordan, as they entered the house. “Are you mad, or something?”

“What did you mean,” said Taylor, sounding upset. “At the ice cream parlor. When you said that it was nice that I was able to get away?”

“Nothing,” Jordan said insistently. When Taylor continued glaring at him, he added, haltingly, “Maybe you’ve been spending a bit too much time with Katie, that’s all.”

“Well, she is my girlfriend,” Taylor said, his voice kind of strange, and Jordan tried not to cringe when he heard his suspicions confirmed. He must not have been very successful though, because Taylor suddenly asked, “What’s your problem anyway?” He reached out and gave Jordan a little shove, which, at any other time, could have been playful. But the two of them were angry, and breathing hard, and Jordan was just so fucking tired of all this.

Jordan pushed back, saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Taylor made a frustrated noise that Jordan found kind of hot and shoved him again so his hips were pressed against the kitchen island. “You’re always huffy and glaring and shit, when Katie’s around. Do you find Katie hot? Is that it? Are you jealous of me or something?”

Jordan laughed because of all the conclusions Taylor could come up with, that was probably the most ridiculous. “No, that’s not it, I promise,” he said, but his weary laughter seemed to make Taylor angrier, because he pushed at Jordan again, fisting one hand in Jordan’s shirt.

“So what’s your problem?” he repeated, voice growing louder.

Jordan was so, so tired. Things between him and Taylor have shifted so strangely that he wasn’t even really sure where he stood.

“Ebs?” Taylor prompted, bringing his face closer to Jordan’s.

“I’m not jealous of you, asshole,” Jordan said slowly. “I’m fucking jealous of her.”

Taylor’s eyes widened. “What?”

Before he could pull away, Jordan practically lunged at him and kissed him. It was pretty awful, since Hallsy had had his mouth open and their teeth clacked painfully together, but if Taylor was going to push him away anyway… if he was going to have to move out… better to go out with a bang than a whimper, right?

Except Taylor wasn’t pushing him away. He wasn’t acting like he was disgusted or repulsed. Kind of the opposite actually, judging from the way he was clutching at Jordan’s hips and angling his head to soften the kiss, to take Jordan’s tongue deeper into his mouth. Jesus Christ, when did Hallsy improve on his makeout technique? Jordan thought briefly of Katie, and kissed Taylor harder.

Jordan raised his arms and wrapped them around Taylor’s neck. Taylor wasn’t that much taller or broader than him, but the way he was cornered against the kitchen island made him feel almost like Taylor was looming over him. It was really kind of hot. Suddenly Taylor was tugging on his pants and pulling him towards the couch, and Jordan could only follow dumbly, letting Taylor take off his shirt. Taylor kissed him again, pressing him into the couch and thumbing the button on his jeans.

“Taylor,” Jordan moaned when Taylor ran a shaking hand down the line of hair leading to his waistband. “Wait, maybe we should—,”

“Please, Ebs,” Taylor said, tilting his head and pressing his forehead against Jordan’s temple. “Please don’t tell me to stop.”

 _But you have a girlfriend!_ Jordan wanted to shout, but then Taylor got a hand on his dick, and Jordan’s hips jerked up without any warning, and Taylor was smiling that stupid smile of his, and Jordan had to pull him down and kiss him again.

If he had thought having Taylor’s hand on him was great, having Taylor rutting against him was _amazing_. Taylor had his pants shoved down his hips and shirt hiked up so Jordan could run his hands and nails over the skin of back and chest, and he was panting roughly into the skin of Jordan’s neck. He watched, eyes half-lidded, as Jordan licked his palm and shoved a hand between them, wrapping it around both their dicks.

“Ebs,” Taylor said. “Ebs, please,”

“I got you,” Jordan reassured him, reaching up with one hand to fist in Taylor’s hair, pulling him up almost brutally to crash their lips together. Hallsy moaned against Jordan’s lips and he was bucking his hips, once, twice, and coming in hot, wet pulses over his stomach and Jordan’s fist.

Jordan knew that the slack-jawed, sated face Hallsy was making was stupid, but it was also the hottest thing he had ever seen. Suddenly Taylor hoisted himself up and got a hand around Jordan’s dick. He bent his head and mouthed at the tender skin of Jordan’s neck as he jerked Jordan a few times, rough, just like Jordan wanted. Jordan’s hips were jerking up, practically slamming into Taylor’s fist, and he let out a choked-off moan as he came. Taylor smiled down at him, half-smug and half-satisfied, and he tilted his head up to capture Jordan’s lips.

Both of them were panting heavily after, and Jordan could already feel the places in the couch where his skin was sticking uncomfortably.

“Come on,” Taylor said, getting to his feet. “I have a bed.”

“So do I,” Jordan countered.

“Mine’s closer,” Taylor said, and Jordan had to agree. They were halfway to Taylor’s bedroom (getting there was harder than it seemed, because Taylor was unwilling to step further than a hand’s width away from Jordan) when Jordan reared back.

“You have a girlfriend!” he said, suddenly remembering why he hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place. Why he had been working so hard at keeping his feelings in check and under wraps.

“Um,” Taylor said. “About that.” He went back to the living room and sat down on the couch. He looked kind of sheepish, a look that wasn’t helped at all by the fact that he was only wearing his boxers with the monkeys all over them. “Katie isn’t really my girlfriend.”

“Dude,” Jordan said, a sick feeling in his stomach. “Even if you didn’t promise anything to her, she’s been spending a lot of time here. You’ve slept with her at least three times. She has a toothbrush here. I think that qualifies her—,”

“She knew I was hung up on you,” Taylor said in a small voice. When Jordan didn’t reply, he continued, “And I didn’t sleep with her. Well, I almost did, the first time. I mean, we were making out in the cab and everything. But when I let her in, she asked about the place and stuff, and I ended up telling her about how awesome you were, and how you were my best friend and that you were pretty hot and… she said I was into you. And then it all made sense.” Taylor looks embarrassed to admit how dense he is. Jordan really shouldn’t find that adorable, but he does.

“Oh,” Jordan said. His knees felt a bit weak, so he reached out to the doorframe for support. “Then why—,”

“You have to promise not to get mad,” Taylor said, hanging his head.

“Okay,” Jordan said, almost nervous now.

“It was all a plan to make you jealous,” Taylor said, burying his face in his hands. “It was her idea, and I figured, you weren’t picking up on it when I flirted with you at the bar, or when we got ice cream, or when I complimented you at practice or here at home… I mean, we woke up _spooning_ on the couch once, Ebs! What did you think that was?”

“An accident?” Jordan said faintly. He had thought he was reading too much into things. He hadn’t dared to hope.

“It wasn’t, okay. I’m really kind of in love with you,” Taylor said. It came out kind of muffled, since his face was still hidden by his hands, but for Jordan it was like the sound of a choir of angels. Or the puck hitting the top bar. Whatever. Best thing Jordan had ever heard come from Taylor’s mouth anyway.

“Oh,” said Jordan. Taylor lifted his head from his hands to glare at him. “What?”

“I tell you that I’m in love with you,” Taylor said. “And all you say is, ‘oh?’”

“I’m pretty fucking in love with you too, Taylor Hall,” Jordan said, crossing his arms. He would have looked tougher if he hadn’t been smiling so widely. “Now come to bed.”

Taylor stood up and grinned at him, face almost cut in half by how wide he was smiling. “If that’s what you want…” he said nonchalantly.

Jordan rolled his eyes, grabbing at Taylor, who fell against him and pinned him to the wall. “It really is.”

///

“So that thing with my spot on the couch…”

“That was my idea,” Taylor said sheepishly, pressing a kiss to Jordan’s shoulder. Jordan sighed.

“Her toothbrush?”

“She said she would need one, after it became clear that it would take a while for you to get it,” Taylor said. Jordan made an outraged noise (or at least, he tried to, multiple orgasms could really take the outrage out of a guy).

“So you didn’t do anything to the pipes in my room so we’d have to share a bathroom?” Jordan said suspiciously. Taylor didn’t answer, and Jordan shoved him a bit. “Hallsy, seriously? What if you’d caused serious damage to the pipes or something?”

“I fixed it,” Taylor said sulkily.

“Okay, okay,” said Jordan. “Um, her cooking?”

“Your scrambled eggs are my favorite,” Taylor said, rolling onto his stomach to look at Ebs. “I promise. Brown bits and all.”

Jordan glared at him, but he could tell that there wasn’t any real anger in it. It was hard, on top of the being so happy thing.

“So Katie’s…”

“Really just a friend, I promise.” Taylor leaned forward so he could perch his chin on Jordan’s chest. “She’s dating a Saskatchewan Roughriders prospect.”

Jordan laughed. “Okay, _now_ I’m really jealous of her,” he teased Hallsy, poking idly at Taylor’s cheek. "Aren't you?" Taylor made a whining noise of irritation at the back of his throat that Jordan fully intended to give him shit for, and he grabbed at Jordan’s hand.

Taylor went a little cross-eyed staring at their linked hands on Jordan’s chest. “I’m good where I am,” he said. His tone was still light and easy, on the edge of laughter almost, but Jordan could tell that he was deadly serious.

“Yeah?” Jordan said, squeezing Taylor’s fingers.

“Yeah,” Taylor agreed.

“Me too,” said Jordan, and kept grinning until Taylor arched up to kiss him.


End file.
